


Bombus Prime

by Forgotten_Logic



Series: Primal Matters [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: EVERYTHING IS EVENTUALLY GOING TO HAPPEN, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Finding criminals of war, I wanted Bee to be Prime, Mentioned Mechpreg, Multi, NUFF SAID, Politics, Shockwave is a gentleman, Youngling, cybertronian candy, it will be amended for soon, mechling, mention of character death/dead character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Logic/pseuds/Forgotten_Logic
Summary: A new Prime for a new Golden Age. The trials he must face and the actions that he has done have all lead up to this, but can he handle the pressure of being the newest Prime? All along with tracking down a couple war criminals along the way?





	1. Primus has spoken

_A New Prime for a New Era; A New Golden Age._

Primus had awoken, not only physically but spiritually. For any being that had not been able to be functioning for the good side of an eon, that would be a hell of a way to wake up. Stiff and still immobile due to the fact that there was life again on Cybertron. And with life on Cybertron, that meant that Primus himself was no long ‘dead’ himself. There was a chance to have another Golden Age. An age where war would not tear everyone apart and where mecha who were from either side can congregate on peaceful terms.

The war was still fresh in the minds and sparks of the survivors of the war. And even for those who did not choose a side, living as neutrals, they too were still shaken that Cybertron was a living being once again. What would be happening now? With a new age dawning, there was only a chance for change and hope. That was also what Primus hoped for his creations. All of them. 

Primus, though he recently awoke with the rejoining of the Matrix and his own spark restored because of the late Prime, Optimus Prime, there was still something that was missing from this reality. There had always been a living Prime. Primus did not count because he was their creator, creator of all mecha creatures and beings. And Cybertron without a living Prime was never a thing, not until recently with the last displaying sacrifice. Bearing his spark and revealing to Primus all the troubles and fears he had. Not only for his mate but for other Cybertronians that still lived.

There was a realm where the Prime’s were taken. The last of the Thirteen was not dead, no. He was only too far away to have a chance at breaking the barrier to his once living realm, the one where his mate was. Optimus was taken there before his spark was extinguished, the sparks that were housed in the Matrix were given back to Primus, he was taken. Taken sounds like such a strong word for being placed in another dimension where there are other mecha that were also leaders of Cybertron. A few were still corrupted in their ways, like Megatronus.

Megatronus, more commonly known as the Fallen Prime. He turned against his brethren and slew his fellow Primes, the few that survived shunned him. They casted him out as a traitor and banished him from Cybertron. And the Prime realm. He’d return, they assumed, to taken vengeance. But one important thing, he could never make it back into the Prime’s realm without killing Primus or going to his core. Either way, that put Primus at risk. He needed to do something, something that would not cause another needless war. 

The giant had an idea. It seemed out of left field for the Creator, however, it could work in his favor. One little yellow framed cop made its way into his laboring processor. He would need to make motion, make a statement to this still young frame. He'd have to do it before it was too late.

Primus at the moment, focused his mind to pinpoint the one mecha. This would not be a first for The Creator, to speak to others through their dreams or thoughts. This was just one method, however. 

The frame of the once scout then warrior to cop lay motionless atop a clean berth in a small apartment complex. Darkly lit with only the light from blue and yellow biolights from that frame. The essence of The Creator moved forward, closer to the yellow frame, and stroked the helm. The Creator was swept away into the dream that this frame was in. 

Bumblebee looked astonished at the sight of the sword of the ancients driven through Megatron's spark chamber, The chamber that he had driven through not too long before Cybertron started its restoration. Purple fluid on the blade, Dark Energon, A trail left behind as the silver frame fell back onto the surface of the blue planet that they had saved. The then scout was on his knees.

“Creation,” The essence of The Creator spoke quietly to the yellow scout. Bumblebee’s dream world came to a halt at the soft toned voice. “You've done and seen much for a young frame. You've fought a war you did not understand, and you've grown,” the essence came closer to Bumblebee. The essence urged himself to go forward, “but your journey is not over.” 

“Be wary,” he commanded, “and stay on the path you've chosen to carve. Only a few have followed your path and fewer have succeeded in following it to its end, take heed,” his tone sharpened. The blue optics of the scout looked to the voice, orbs bouncing from place to place. “Another chaos is coming, lead as well as you listen, you're the only frame capable,” Primus allowed himself to fade a bit, allow the scouts curiosity to pull him closer.

“Who… are you?” The squeak in his voice showed the waver in confidence. His optics tried to find an answer, but looking at a figure that had no mass, no defining shape, left him in bewilderment. Primus, despite himself, chuckled. “I am the ground you walk on. I am the being who you have revived,” his tone sounded jovial, “take heed creation. Listen, and lead as well as you can,” he faded completely.

He left Bumblebee to figure out who he was. _I am the ground you walk on_ , he thought repeatedly. He was on Cybertron. _Primus?_ His frame jutted out of dream world to see only the real one, almost terrified.

What would the God of Creation what with him? He was only a cop, only. Lead? Bumblebee had never needed to lead anyone, ever, but that was because Optimus always did his best when he lead. Perhaps it was all almost like a practice run for him to lead? So that he could catch and find things that worked and did not? That he would probably never find out. 

Bumblebee still wonders why Optimus had the thought to put Unicron’s anti-spark in the AllSpark’s holding chamber and put what was in the AllSpark with his own, he'd still be there. He'd still be leading them. Optimus would still be there with his mate. 

_Only time will tell_ , he thought. _Only a few have followed your path and fewer have succeeded in following it to its end_ , the words circled his head. What could he mean? He sighed and laid back down on the berth, an answer would come soon, wouldn't it? It was too late to think, too much for what felt like mere moments. He could think more on all of this later, but what then?


	2. Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :; Is a Comm Link ;:  
> I wanted to do something a little different from my other stories.

_A New Prime for A New Era; A New Golden Age._

_Cybertron_ , its former glory was nearly restored! A majority of the landscape had been cleaned up and the finishing touches of building had already been finished. Bumblebee had his fair share of helping with reconstruction, helping Ulta Mangus direct the once Decepticon Vehicons and Eradicons with the finer details. 

With the the larger building over and done with, along with the smaller ones, there had come time for a government. Bumblebee was not around during the times of corruption of the former caste system and did not know all the lives it had ruined. He only really saw the contempt from the mecha in the Autobot army who were there and had seen it, they never spoke of it in the open. That left Bumblebee oblivious to the history behind the war effort. That was until Optimus took him aside after he saw a confused glare glued to the other mecha who spoke of what they lost. _Optimus had told him everything that happened_.

Bumblebee was much younger than, Optimus spared him some of the gorier situations that had happened. Though it was in quick, short burst of information for him, Bumblebee would come to learn more and more of the atrocities that both sides had done to come to the point. He often thought about what could have been done instead of did. And then he’d come back from his mind and be reminded that the war is over.

Now, was no different. Bumblebee walked down the streets of Iacon. _New Iacon_. The name was still new to him as it was everyone else, but like _New Iacon_ , many of the other city states had earned a new name. Really, the majority now had New as part of their name, far fewer changed their name, to remove the history from the place. Bumblebee still only referred this _New Iacon_ as Iacon. He did not see the truth in whitewashing their history, so that perhaps they all could learn from it and overcome what has been done before. 

His steps were heavy, not with exhaustion but with thought. The usual thought that would go through him would comprise walking precisely, not so at the moment. His processor was still occupied with what happened almost a stellar cycle ago. The very message that the essence carried terrified him and he was still unsure how to think of it. What would the Creator want him to do? He did speak in a way that said to keep going on his path. What was his path and where was it going? 

That he would have to figure out later, right now, he had to meet with the new mecha that were just coming from outer space travel. That would mean Wheeljack bringing back mecha who had yet to know about the end of the war, which is good. However, from time to time he would run into mecha that still sided with the Decepticon cause after so much time. It was loyalty, that part Bumblebee respected, however, with how crazy these mecha were, it was fanaticism. 

Blue optics scraped the landscape, taking in the landing area. As it would seem he was just in time. Wheeljack’s ship, the ‘Jackhammer’, came down a bit heavy but recovered well, slightly bouncing back up from the force. Bumblebee continued to downed ship, in his processor he asked himself, Who had Wheeljack come back with this time? 

The last time he’d come back he came back with a large group of femmes. They said that they never even knew the war happened. That and for the few that did know the war started they thought the conflict was settled vorns ago. Either way, their knowledge was minimal. Hopefully this time is different, he thought while extending a welcoming presence to his EM field. 

The doors of the ship opened to reveal the Ex-Wrecker. For a brief time he looked clean, then he stepped out and into the light, revealing a dusty frame. He must have had a situation like the last time, where the mecha he brought on board were messy themselves and were very grabby. These were not the femmes but they were young mecha, still younger than Bumblebee. And they still had yet to learn to not touch someone else’s things – or them. That was Wheeljack’s problem until they got planetside. 

Wheeljack’s steps were heavy as he lazily placed his peds down the ramp. Follow shortly behind him were short mecha, barely making it his waist, their optics were not all blue. The color of the optics is the quickest way to tell if there is something the matter with them. Of the few mecha that trailed behind him, Bumblebee saw purple, orange, grey, and white. At least one of the Mini’s were going blind, it would seem.

He waved over at the Ex-Wrecker, Wheeljack’s mask was slid back, easily revealing his scarred smile. “Hey, Bee,” he said grabbing the yellow shoulder, some dust coming off. It really did not bother him. The few Minis, as Bumblebee was calling them in his processor, still followed behind. “Yeah, hi. So who’ve we got here?” Bumblebee gently shook off the servo and pointed with his optics. The smaller of the five, one with orange optics and purple chassis, spoke up. “May I?” It was a small voice, raspy, though it sounded that way because of age and not of disuse. Wheeljack only stepped to the side, allowing the Mini to step forward. “We came from a nameless planet just thatta way. We really appreciate the ride over back home. Glad we can call Cybertron home again!” The mini let out a nervous chuckle. 

Taking a moment to clear his vocalizer, a little mask that covered his face slid back. “Oh! For introduction, this is Slip,” he pointed out the Mini with blue optics and yellow frame, a slightly darker shade that seemed to fade into a green hue. “That is Noot,” he vaguely gestured to the mecha with purple optics and a dark red frame. There were little spikes on his helm that jutted out towards the back, looking terribly sharp. 

“These two are Cloudwise and Stormy.” Cloudwise was the mecha with white optics with a light blue frame with silver streaks coming down her face plate, creating a look of clarity. Stormy was the other femme with grey optics with an entirely black frame, only details around the optics with a dark blue. They reminded Bee of what humans perceived as teary-eyed. 

Bumblebee nodded, he’d have to remember their names. That also made him think, but he cannot skip formalities. “It’s nice to meet all of you,” He said with a slight smile. “So, that leaves you. What’s your designation?” The little purple chassis quickly turned back To Bumblebee with wide optics. “Oh! Dear me, I’m Bolt,” his servos went behind his back as he leaned back and forth on small purple peds. Bumblebee liked this one.

“It’s good to meet all of you. Has Wheeljack made mention of where you’ll be staying for the time being?” He asked, Bumblebee wanted to see if he would need to call up Magnus and a few other mecha to point out where they would be staying. The one called Stormy nodded from the back beside Cloudwise, “North Iacon, close to the new Council building.” Her voice low and poised, almost as if she had practiced to say those few words. Bee nodded again. “We can should you all around if that is all right,” Bee still bore a small smile. The smaller mecha shook their helms, Noot spoke out ahead of the others. “We will find our way. Cybertron can’t be too different than before.” Oh if only you knew, Bumblebee thought with an invisible frown.

“This is the way, yes?” Before either mecha could answer the Mini, Stormy transformed, along with the others and made their way towards _New Iacon_. Bumblebee did not contain his sigh, Wheeljack however, remained quiet. All quiet until there was barely a hum over the wind of the Mini’s engines. “It’s good to see ya, kid. How’s reconstruction?” Wheeljack seemed so calm, much calmer than he usually would be from being cooped up in his ship with other mecha he doesn’t know. Or know well. He prefered to fly with others that he actually knew vice not. But still, he was one that signed up to go scouting for survivors and refugees. He had it coming. 

Bumblebee looked back at the tracks that were made near moments ago by the newcomers, and turned back to Wheeljack. “It’s nearly finished. I guess it’s now only a matter of time before everything is back to what was,” his servos came to rest behind his helm. “How was your way ‘round out there? You seem so relaxed, certainly more than usual,” Bumblebee’s frame relaxed, his servos down at his sides. Wheeljack shrugged. “I'm gonna have to be relaxed; can't get riled up before seein’ Bulk,” there was a smirk to the Ex-Wrecker’s features. 

Bee’s optics closed tightly, “I didn't want to know about that!” Wheeljack laughed. “Save the _fluffy stuff_ for him, don't, just don't tell me.” _Aww, Bee’s embarrassed!_ The white and green mech mused. All the while Bee was like _stop please. I don't care what you two do. Stop_. 

Bumblebee wasn’t against interfacing, he’d done it a few times. He however, did not like to talk about or insinuate the implications, while Wheeljack did not care about talking about it in public. He seemed to want to talk about it. It kind of comes from him being a Wrecker, they have zero filter. Bulkhead did have a filter, a real kindness about him, that may have been why he left the Wreckers for Team Prime. The team was respectable and small, but worked closely, like a family. 

“I wasn’t gonna spoil you with the details! You already know what’s up with us,” The Ex-Wrecker waved his servo in dismissal. “Besides that,” his tone lowered, optics brightening, his servos stroking arms, dust particles falling to the ground. “You can’t be single forever Bee.” Bumblebee watched the particles fall, then his optics bounced back to Wheeljack’s face. “It’s not like I have time Wheeljack. Reconstruction takes a lot of time and-”

“And there are others who are there to help,” Wheeljack interrupted. “It ain’t all on you. Slag kid, you’re turning into Ultra Magnus,” servos landing firmly on his hips. “A complete workaholic that refuses to say he needs a break. You’re coming with me.” Wheeljack grabbed him and pulled him to his ship. “Wheeljack! Where are you taking me?” He said with a laugh, Bumblebee knew he could trust Jackie, but there was a nagging feeling of guilt. He tried to push that away. This was going to be interesting either way. 

The Ex-Wrecker smirked as he tilted his helm back, not saying a word. At first. All Wheeljack did was plant his aft on his seat, turning over the engines. Bumblebee shook his helm and sat down in the seat that was adjacent. The ship lifting into the air, and boomed off. Bumblebee had been patient, it was running out. “Wheeljack,” he said simply, before he could get another word out, Wheeljack replied, “You’ll see.” 

It wasn’t too long before Bee noticed that they descending. But one thing unsettled him, where the frag were they? “Jack.”

“You’ll see Bumblebee, don’t worry so much. You’ll talk yourself into stasis.” _He wasn’t completely_ wrong, though it was unlikely. Ratchet had told Bee a little bit about medical protocols, he knew that it could happen, however under different circumstances. The usual talking and over-thinking wasn’t going to do any harm. 

Wheeljack was up and moving towards the hatch, it opened with a hiss. “C’mon Bumblebutt. Cool your circuits for at least a short cycle,” he said while waving him on. Azure optics narrowed, “Don’t call me that!” He groaned. Wheeljack smirked again, “I didn’t say it in front of Smokescreen, he’d never let you forget it.” He was not wrong, once Smokescreen got something he likes, he won’t let go. Bumblebee pointed at him, very accusing digit. “You better not, Jackie.”

“‘You better not, Jackie’ what?” 

The yellow mecha turned at the voice, happily surprised at who he saw. “Bee?” The green mecha stepped out of silver building, one Bee did not notice. “It’s been too long,” He nodded, Bumblebee walked up Bulkhead. Something was different about him, calmer, because usually he’d go and grab Bee and hug him. Though he was being calm, his usual smile did not leave. 

“You've not changed a bit, Bee,” Bulkhead smiled, “C’mon in. Jackie, you too, odd bolt.” _Nicknames?_ Bee mused, following Bulkhead inside the clean building. He was surprised to see the white and gold mech sitting, cross-legged, on the couch. Bee was not sure who this was.

 _Until he spoke_. “Hello Bumblebee, it's pleasant to see you,” he said in a low rumble. Bumblebee flinched at the voice but tried to stand as if nothing happened. Behind him Bulkhead slid his way around and sat heavily on the opposite end of the couch, ever smiling. The azure optics of the other mech seemed to dance over Bumblebee, that kind of freaked him out. And Bulk seemed to notice his discomfort. “This is Shockwave.”

That nearly made his entire frame get fried. _Why is he here? And why was Bulk so okay with this?_ “Uh, hi?” He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Shockwave, no longer the dark purple framed mech, an _empurata victim_ , nodded. “I sense you don't much care for me here. I understand that,” he said simply. “I've done more things that could count against me than most,” he added. 

Bumblebee hid his shutter. _No kidding_ , he thought with a bite. Bumblebee did not trust Shockwave on a good day and seeing him with a new paint job and shiny new optics didn't bode well with him. But, if Bulkhead has him in his home, he must be okay, to say the least. 

A crash happened outside, Bumblebee’s optics jumped to the door. Silently Shockwave uncrossed his legs and walked out, with the free moment where he wasn’t in, Bee took his chance to ask. “Why is Shockwave _here?_ ”

Bulkhead shrugged, perhaps he was expecting him to ask about his new _friend_. “Well Bee, do you know why I took off from working on reconstruction?” Bulkhead asked with a vague tone. Bumblebee half nodded, half shook his helm. “All I heard was that you were off for medical reasons. When I asked for what, no one would say.” 

Bulkhead smiled a little bigger. “What?” Bumblebee was a little worried now. Bulkhead shook his helm and laughed. “I bet you’ll figure it out if you think about it,” a little smirk, like that of his mate, danced across his face. 

Wheeljack and Shockwave walked back in, though this time, with their arms full. Wheeljack walked in front, trailing with Shockwave to the kitchen. Or so Bumblebee guessed. He noticed that Wheeljack seemed to tilt his helm towards Bulkhead, something that caused more interest and confusion in the yellow mech. _What is that about?_ And then Bulkhead shrugged. 

The other two mecha disappeared for a time, long enough for Bulkhead to speak again with only Bee. “Have you thought about it?” Bulkhead really wanted to have Bee guess, but at the same time, he really wanted to outright tell him. He’d already told Wheeljack the news but wanted to see if Bee could figure it out. Or maybe he was still young on that front? Bumblebee frowned and shook his helm, a look of disappointment in his optics. 

Then Bumblebee looked at where Bulk’s servos were, one on his lap and the other on his abdomen. _It can’t be a virus. I wouldn’t be allowed in here by Wheeljack. It must be good thing then, right?_ He mused. “It’s a good thing, right?” he asked to affirm what he hoped. Bulkhead nodded enthusiastically. “Got any hints?” Bee gave in to the chuckles, Bulkhead took a moment before nodding. He nodded half to himself and half to Bee. 

“It’s something that only happens to conjunx,” was the only hint. Not many specific things can happen to bondmates, Bee mused. Then it hit him like a train, but he was now getting embarrassed to ask his friend. “Are you… carrying?” His wings fluttered, in a quiet way, Bulkhead knew of his embarrassment. But Bulk did nothing for a moment, then smiling with a slow nod. A stupid grin lined Bumblebee’s face. “Are you serious?” 

“Yup!”

Wheeljack and Shockwave came back quietly. Shockwave took the end of the couch and Wheeljack sat next to his mate, his digits patting Bulk’s thigh. “What’s been up since we’ve been gone?” Wheeljack asked. As if he really needed to ask, Bulkhead and Shockwave kept him in the loop well enough, even out of the room. That was a good thing about being bonded, they had a link, a bond, that no one else would have with anyone but themselves. 

“I was only telling Bee some news about us,” Bulk answered simply, now resting his servo atop his mates. Wheeljack smiled, not smirked, at Bumblebee, and chuckled. “So you’ve heard?” Shockwave was the one to talk, casting a smile to Bumblebee and back to Bulkhead. Bee nodded slowly. “It’s great that you two are going to be creators,” Bumblebee outwardly mused. His Comm. bleeped aloud. Bee’s optics shot wide when he didn’t settle it as quick as he hoped. Wheeljack leaned into Bulkhead and whispered, “How much you wanna bet that it’s Shoulder Pads on the other end?” Bumblebee didn’t hear him but did hear Bulkhead chuckle. 

When he did get the Comm. to stop buzzing he looked apologetically towards everyone, even Shockwave. He popped into the kitchen and opened the channel. **:; Hello, Sir. ;:** Bee spoke quietly aloud. Wheeljack’s bet was correct. **:; Bumblebee, where are you? You were supposed to give me a report as soon as Wheeljack made grounding. ;:** Magnus’ voice sounded tired, more so than the usual overworked mecha. Bumblebee already had the report done, he had been told how many mecha were to have landed by Wheeljack the prior cycle. Bumblebee on his HUD looked to the corner and selected his Comm. System and selected data file.

/send (LDCM) to {Ultra Magnus} (“Report_235.txt”) 

And off that file went. **:; Sir, report’s been sent. Over the LDCM channel. ;:** Bumblebee half nodded to himself and the other to Magnus who wasn’t even there to see anyway. **:; All well and good. However, that does not tell me where you are. ;:** That’s true, he did happen to omit that. **:; I’m at Wheeljack’s. ;:**

 **:; He dragged you there, didn’t he. ;:** It was not a question, it was a statement. It sounded like maybe something like that had happened to the old Commander. Bumblebee did laugh but caught himself. **:; Yes, sir. He did. ;:** He heard Magnus sigh. **:; I see. Have a good evening. ;:** The Comm. on Magnus’ side dropped, a buzz of static. Shaking his helm, he walked back to the living room. No one really moved except for Shockwave, he was now standing close to the front door. Bulkhead and Wheeljack turned their helms, Shockwave already was facing him. “Who was being so persistent?”

“It was Magnus, ain’t it?”

“It was Mags. He was just checking in, and making sure I got my report done.” Bulkhead nodded, a digit tapping diligently against his thigh. Shockwave cleared his intakes a moment, “I should be going.” Bumblebee nodded. “I think I’ll be heading out too. Thanks for dragging me over, Wheeljack. And congrats to you two!” Bulkhead smiled. Wheeljack being himself, smirked. “We’re glad to have you over, Bee,” Bulk spoke with a joyous peep.

Shockwave grabbed the door and held it open, having his servo direct Bee out. Bumblebee, not used to the gesture, gave him a funny look. There was a part of him that told him to keep going, and ignore a curious feeling in the back of his processor to form anything bigger than a small question. And another that egged him on to grab the door and hold it for himself. He ignored that one.

After Bee walked out, Shockwave followed behind, however not close enough to warrant Bumblebee to be too worried. It was a safe distance for Shockwave, he had only just seen Bee after his change back from being an empurata victim. He wanted to leave his past behind and not let that change anything. 

Shockwave cleared his intakes. “You’re staying in Iacon, yes?” Bumblebee nodded, not sure why he was being asked the obvious. “Would you mind if I drove with you?” Bee was confused however did not take it the wrong way (he hoped), and nodded. 

It wasn’t too far from Iacon from where they were, it would take may an hour and a half with no trouble. Bumblebee transformed, and without him really paying attention, watched Shockwave do the same. He watched the white and golden mech’s frame twist and compact itself into a _sleek_ , naturally Cybertronian car. It was not one meant for speed but for agility. His engine revved, Shockwave did not seem to notice. Or he noticed and completely ignored the action taken by the yellow car, who still had his Terran mode. 

The same low voice seemed to whisper “Are you coming?” in a playful sound. While Bee was trying to recollect himself, Shockwave was on the move. His rear tires spun a moment before catching up to him. He heard Shockwave chuckle. “You’ve always been good when it comes to speed,” a compliment?, Bee mused with an edge of burning curiosity, but shook off the feeling immediately. “Thanks.” There was a drawback to Shockwave’s engines, though he said nothing of it, Bee heard it. This would be a most interesting drive back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd I do?  
> Btw: http://sticky-robutts.tumblr.com/image/152340002223 THIS is what I based the look of Shockwave, and I /ATTEMPTED/ to get kind of close in writing.  
> Not mention but, that's one of my blogs... XD :3


	3. New ways with old substitutions

_A New Prime for a New Age; A New Golden Age._

_The building of New Iacon_ , screw it, Iacon has been primarily finished. The show stopper is really the completed Council and Senate building. The colors that adorned it reminded many of the mecha (who lived before the war started) of the Golden Age of Cybertron, before Exodus. That was a time that some mecha still dreamed could be back.

Many mecha families were killed - slaughtered - during the war. A majority of the deaths cause were because of the Council. The mecha, and not only that, the standing Prime at the time was Sentinel Prime. He had a hateful kind of resentment for the mecha of lower castes. And the easiest way to get rid of them faster was to have gladiatorial fights and have those who couldn’t do anything useful be damned to the mines. 

Inside the building, it had already many rows of mecha. Some arguing amongst themselves, and while some were wasting their time doing other things. Some mecha were returning neutrals, Cloudwise being one of them. The minicon’s frame sat lazily in the high chair, reading over a datapad. It was nothing important, something recreational. There had yet to be an actual meeting, so no actual information besides that of what they all already knew, had been put out to them.

Shockwave was there too, minding his own business really. Though, with him being restored to his pre-war, pre-empurata self, he still tended to be a very inward mech. That made it all the easier for him to watch how others acted and how the environment was in the room. It also made it easier for him to just be there and not be stared at or ridiculed. That had always been a sad thing for Shockwave to have to deal with, before the war, after his empurata, he was only seen as a monster, using the darker side of him mind. 

Some mecha knew, but for those that never learned the history, Shockwave experimented on the frames of dead mecha. It was then and is now, frowned upon. Many of those that knew this fact had either died during the long run war, or came to a point where they didn’t care to remember the atrocities of the war. And how it changed everyone. 

Well born, cold constructed, birthed, it changed how everyone interacted. He knew that, as did everyone else. Everyone lost something. He lost his sanity. And now, he sat where he did all those millions ago, though perhaps this time, he’d be better. 

A grey-faced mecha, with black lace lacing the perimeter of her face, approached the center of the circular room. Her frame looked dangerous, spikes jutting out from her sides and back. Shockwave couldn’t tell if they were as sharp as they looked, it was worrisome. Frame was boxy, sharp edges everywhere, she must have been a grounder, or a heavy duty flyer, he mused. Quietly, she assembled two neatly stacked piles of datapads, after they were to her liking, she cleared her intakes, earning many attentions. Silently bowing her head, she brought one pad right in front of her on the podium. 

“Hello everyone, and welcome back to Cybertron,” she began. “I am Smoothclip, presently council leader by unanimous agreement.” _Unanimous agreement? When did we have any voting for you to be council leader?_ Shockwave blinked with an indecisive glare towards the femme. “Today, I’ve acquired information from those who aided in the reconstruction process. Ultra Magnus being a major supplier of the information taken, primarily due to the fact that he was the only mecha to document what occurred. Beit resources, injury reports, etcetera.” 

Shockwave watched with bored optics, only enough to pay attention. “Let's begin. Energon wells and production have been on a steady incline for the latter part of the last Ano Cycle,” she pointed to one of the datapads she was using as reference, almost beaming. “And to add, the major cities, Iacon, Kaon, Vos, are now becoming beacons for trade. However, there has been trouble in the Vosian state, robbers and marauders have been reported. Others have issued reinforcements to the borders and we should have-”

“Should have the proper ability to do so? Who are those you speak of? And who, pray tell, gave you the authority to lead this council?” Cloudwise was roused from her seat, optics ablaze with their own intensity. Her white optics seemed to burn a little brighter than moments before. Smoothclip, nodding, she located a datapad and looked at lazily. “Yes, councilor Cloudwise. We should have the proper ability to accommodate for the present situation. As for how I'm here, or who sent those to the area, understand, without a standing Prime, it is the duty of the council to do what is best for the public. We are all doing our job, as according to the Covenant of Primus,” she reverently spoke, bowing her head in respect. Shockwave wasn’t one for religion, and sat tall.

Something in him made him ready his vocalizer, speaking out. “And with Optimus Prime, our late Prime gone, you want us to follow your lead?” Many pairs of optics turned to him, it was a lot, however, it did not phase him. “And, if I may be so bold, who are these mecha that said for you to be council leader? I would like to hear an answer to Councilor Cloudwise’s question, as I am sure, others are curious as well.” Shockwave waved a white hand back, gesturing to those around the room. The very full room. The white optics of Cloudwise dimmed slightly, not in embarrassment, but in quiet thanks. 

Mecha all around the room, some agreeing with Cloudwise and Shockwave. There were still some old time Functionalists that returned to the council, and did not question Smoothclip’s origins. The silver femme stepped back, sighing, her optics closing for mere moments. “There were only fifteen mecha present, one being Ultra Magnus himself and a former gladiator by the name of Nightblade,” she replied cooly. “There was only two votes that were against me being council leader,” Smoothclip added with the faintest appearance of a smirk. “I only said at the beginning that I am presently council leader, this however, only the first day. There will be a time to vote me out, if you so wish it. We now have to decide on other things at the moment, if you all would be so kind to work with me.” It wasn’t much of a plea, but rather an affirmation to Shockwave and other mecha around the room that they were not apart of the vote to make her council leader.

“I am no Prime, that much is true, this discussion will be continued at a later,” shifting the documents in front of her, “There is still the matter of Megatron. He has run away from Cybertron and has tyrannical tendencies. Him along with Optimus Prime had a hand in the first destruction of Cybertron. However, with Optimus Prime dead, and with Megatron on the loose, there is danger in the cosmos.” 

“And what do you expect us to do about it?” One councilor called out, Shockwave was not even sure who that could have been. Smoothclip did not shrug, only stared at the general dirrectiong of the voice. “I except some ideas. We can’t allow one of the most dangerous criminals of the war to roam freely amongst the cosmos. Doesn’t your moral compass say something? Is it within the best interests of those in the universe to try to fend for themselves, a threat they’ve most likely one they’ve possibly already lost to? I ask for options, not proclamations.” 

It was interesting, she asked for help, Shockwave was surprised. The last councilor, one not even he could remember, would only state what he was going to do. He wasn’t such a lawful mecha, that much he could recollect.

His mind travelled from the present discussion. Shockwave knew one way or another that Megatron would be hunted down, and killed at the kindest. There was no sense in listening in right now. You can't change how things will most likely, how _logically_ they will turn out. 

Oh how he hated that word. _Logical._ He thought of it with so much scorn, so much hatred because it was how he thought for half an eon. Logic, that's what made him lose his mind, what had helped in the sentencing of Empurata. He hated it. Shockwave wanted the word erased from memory, as with everyone else's. One word, he believes, caused him so much suffering. He didn't want to listen to _logic._

His mind was pulled back when a mecha yelled “Optimus Prime was not without fault during the war. He too had a hand in the destruction! Why are we not talking about him?” That caught his attention. An ex-con? Perhaps. Smoothclip looked where the voice had risen, “He is dead, allow us to let and leave the dead,” her deadpan response left the other mecha silent. “Though, I must admit, I’ve had my own distaste for our late Prime. He is not the problem we are facing,”

“So says you!” another voice called out. “He has managed to escape death many time! From Megatron, from disease, and from starvation, how can we be so sure he is gone?” 

“Yes! Even his mate still lives!”

“Once Conjunxed, it’s impossible to survive the death of the other!”

“Enough!” Her bellow filled the room, a few mecha flinched; especially those closer the ground level. “I know that all is true,” she began. “It is an odd situation, I agree, and we cannot deviate too far from that. Yes, his conjunx lives,” she seemed to hold her breath. “However, it is possible – though the chances are low – to survive.” 

“How can you know?” “Where is the proof?” Two other voices bleeped in. Her body changed from relaxed and collected to tense, something seemed to changed in her field. Her optics danced across the room, slowly, as if to seek something out. “I know only one mecha who’s survived the death of her mate; she was a friend of mine,” her voice spoken as a whisper, carried around the room as if she yelled it.

“So you have no evidence,” the same condescending voice popped through, the one who asked where her proof was. “Liar.”

“Be easy Councilor Brick, I have no qualms with having you forcibly removed from this council.” Shockwave look to where this ‘Brick’ character was. He still bore a faction’s insignia, an odd choice of apparel, as Shockwave thought. He had his own removed. 

“Also,” her tone even sent chills down Shockwave’s back struts. “You still wear an insignia of the war; I do hope you understand how that shows everyone the bias in your remarks.” It was a cold, icy glare he casted at her.

“At least I wasn’t a cowardice Autobot!” There in that moment, many voices meshed together. Some chanting agreements and while others yelling with disdain. She in a silent way hushed the crowd, Brick still fuming at his own distress. 

“It’s hard to be an Autobot if you never once were one.” The silence carried. “As an ex-con myself, I would like to see that all of us, Autobot and Decepticon alike, assimilate and make better of the future,” She picked up a datapad and waved it around gingerly, “And get some work done! I believe we all desire just as much.” 

Something in Shockwave’s chest allowed him to breathe again. When had he stopped? No matter, perhaps now they could all get some work done, for the betterment of Cybertron, and its people. 

“No matter your prior faction or prior attachments, we all bleed blue!” Another mecha, red frame with spikes poked from her head, they jutted back. “Yes, we all bleed blue! Thank you councilor Skyblaze. Now, can we all get along and see what we can do about Megatron?” A change of talk, Shockwave mused, may as well listen in this time. A murmur etched it’s way among the crowd. _Oh look, she’s creating discord,_ he thought with dismay. He straightened his frame in his seat. 

Brick cleared his vocalizer. “I say that we don’t go after our dear Lord Megatron. And anyone who says we should is mad. Do you want us all be paid with his wrath?” There were some collective boos and some voices rang out with yells of “you're mad!” Or “do you have anything better?” 

“Brick! I want you out of here. Jetlag,” turning her head towards a lofty built black frame. “Remove him.” Shockwave saw something that horrified appear on that ugly face. “What?! You can't remove me!” The council leader looked down at someone, someone Shockwave could not see from his seat. “Xandax, please read over what I said a minute ago.” He immediately read over his writings. Xandax was the recorder for every word that anyone said in meetings and he was good at it too.

He cleared his intakes. “Smoothclip: _‘Be easy Councilor Brick, I have no qualms with having you forcibly removed from this council.’_ ” She bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“Brick, I will speak with you afterwards, perhaps you may come back. However, not before then, are we clear?” 

“Go to the Pit!” Shockwave rolled his optics. What he didn't expect was for Brick to lunge out of Jetlag’s reach, and do a full-body attack at Smoothclip. She saw this too, with fluid movement she stepped out of his way. Some mecha in the stands ran from the ground level to avoid the chaos. Shockwave almost felt numb, like it was something that he was so used to, seeing angry mecha try to fight an opposing power. 

Smoothclip merely turned around, waiting for his next lunge, Brick wasn't smart enough to see this. And he ran. And she did the same thing, side stepping, however with a bit more flare, grabbing by his shoulder. She slammed him down. His movements were virtually stilled when she put one ped at the base of his neck, cutting off some circulation. “Brick, I've already been to the Pit,” leaning down, she picked him by his neck, keeping him immobilized. “And I survived.” 

Shockwave looked at her with a burning curiosity. Another gladiator, interesting. As he thought that, that black mech grabbed both servos of Brick, and threw them into low grade stasis cuffs. “I hate you.”

Her blue optics narrowed. “You attacked me, I merely retaliated. You should be embarrassed.” Brick gave a death glare as he was pulled out of the room. She sighed, standing back up towards the podium, realigning her datapads. “As we have seen today, it's been interesting to say the least. However, the day is not over yet. Now, to fill up that now empty seat… I uh, actually have names that could come and sit in his place,” she began reading names off, there was one that caught Shockwave’s attention. “And Bumblebee. Those are possible candidates. At this very point, we only need a stand in, someone who can keep a level head, and perhaps one that won't attempt to attack someone with differing opinions. After all, we are in this together.” Shockwave found himself nodding in agreement, along with others.

“These mecha will be informed of this and will be invited to hold the seat, until then, that seat is empty.” Smoothclip nodded to herself a moment. There was minibot that came rushing up to her, completely green with one data pad in hand. Smoothclip looked down and got down lower, kneeling. The minibot spurred something that none of the mecha, even the one’s closest to the floor, to Smoothclip, for a first time since they’d all been in there, she looked frazzled. Optics wide and silver frame frozen, tension in her frame was obvious to any idiot there. Her frame did not hold long like that, and everyone in the room was wondering what was being said to cause such a response from this former gladiator. 

She nodded again and the minibot handed her the data pad. She signed something that was on it, or that’s what it look like to Shockwave, and handed it back. The minibot took it and ran out, albeit calmer than when they first came in. Smoothclip rose back up and stacked up her data pads neatly again. “I have been informed that the power will be shut off in a short while. So do not be surprised when-” darkness. “The power goes out... “ There was one shriek but no one paid them any mind. 

“Well, why not we call it a day?”

“When’s the power coming back?”

“The mech said sometime tomorrow. There was a bad power surge in Southern Iacon and those who are building and repairing want to have that dealt with.” She sighed quietly. Maybe it was she was physically tired or mentally tired, either was a possibility, so thought Shockwave. “However, with this in mind, yes, let’s call it a day. Please leave orderly.” And most of the mecha did, and those who didn’t, well, they didn’t move to begin with. Shockwave included, only idly sitting and watching with adjusting optics as mecha from behind and in front of him left. Smoothclip did not leave either, not at first, she only made way to the exit after most of the Councilors were out. She did take her data pads with her, neatly held under her arm. 

Shockwave started to leave as well. He was in the middle of his row and walked slowly even though he knew where everything was. Well, he did know now after waiting a few minutes for everything to settle and his own optics to adjust. With more caution than he even thought himself capable of, he walked down the long low-leading staircase, all the way down to the main floor. After all that, making his way out was painfully simple, the light of the outside slid through the bottom and the sides of the door, letting out slices of light. Time for him to go home.

Outside, the cool Cybertronian breeze seemed to carry him, it was a luxury for him and for many other mecha. They all, okay most, were happy to be back on Cybertron. But Shockwave’s mind travelled back to merely minutes ago in the Council, about Bumblebee being invited to come and be a sit-in for Brick. Part of him was curious whether or not the yellow warrior would join in as sit-in for the time being, and the other part of him was wondering what his opinion of all this would be? The fact that the Council, or Smoothclip wanted to search for the run-away warlord and put him to justice, what would he think about it? Shockwave would only now, allow himself to stew in his thoughts as he made his way to his apartment in Western Iacon. He’d have time for sure to allow his mind to travel.

Shockwave was so used to travelling by walking, now with his new alternative mode, it was always something that he found that he liked. The smooth edges, the way his biolights came to surface to illuminate his white and gold frame, it was certainly a nice touch. Then he starting thinking about Bumblebee’s frame… still in his Terran mode, sleek and lovely to ogle at if given the chance. No wonder that one mech… that white sportster was so keen on flirting with him. That’s what Bulkhead was talking about last time he was over there, and how Bumblebee either did not care for the actions that the sportster took or that he was oblivious to actions in a whole. Bulkhead had thought that it was out of choice, but then he stopped talking about Bumblebee in those matters, said it was personal kind of stuff that should Shockwave find himself close enough to the warrior, to ask himself. 

Soon, he very well might. 

It’s not like Shockwave only liked him for him looks, not entirely. There was something different about him, that much he could feel. Shockwave wanted to learn more about this one. He wanted someone to trust him, and maybe, just maybe, love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! How's this? :)


	4. Enemies Can Become Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM NOT DEAD JUST TIRED  
> btw hiiiii
> 
> I hope you all like this chappy
> 
>  **Edit:** This is what I am attempting to make Shockwave look like. Am I doing alright?

Bumblebee had gotten a job in Southern Iacon as an enforcer, a cop, a while back. He seemed happy to have it as an occupation, fighting the smaller crimes that did occur under this new and growing populace. It was the new normal, for as long as everyone got along for the most part. That part terrified many mecha. How long until the next war? It was not uncommon for Cybertronians to get riled and fight. That’s why many mecha bought gladiators in the Golden Age; when there was a conflict, who ever had the strongest fighter was the victor. It mattered not what the original matter was over. If there was Energon running through your veins then you could be bought and fight. Nothing that the gladiators had a say in or wanted, only fight for whatever reason your owner wished.

Now he just strolled around the growing businesses, flourishing with new mecha and new imports from all around the galaxy. Soon, with any luck, Cybertron would again become a beacon for trade and resources, as they once were. That on its own would do the planet good, though with shanix being practically worthless and almost no other species in the universe in need or even able to use Energon, they were still figurative and quite literally floating broke. But, for the Galactic Council to give any respect to Cybertronians now, after a war that had long sustained away from their own planet and found way onto other planets, it was easily said that others were quite fond of the idea of avoiding Cybertronians as a whole. They were violent on a decent day, imagine a bad one; that’s why there was millions of years of war. It couldn’t be helped. 

Although Bumblebee had not been around during the very beginning of the war, he did understand what happened, though through vague references. Optimus, Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Arcee, amongst others, saved the more gorier things from the newbuild. It was the only kindness that could be afforded to him but even then, war didn’t allow for him to be left out of it for long. But one shouldn’t linger thinking about the past, it traps those in an eternal time loop, reminding them of things that can never be changed or amended for. 

He kept walking, from time to time, making sure his Stunt Blaster was still against his hip. It was a new addition, considering that weapons that were once hardwired into his frame – and everyone else’s frame – were removed. It was still kind of an odd sensation, being that he was one of the few mecha that still had some sort of weapon attached to him. That, even though at first allowed him to feel comfortable, made him a target for those that did not like enforcers, much less of a former Autobot one! He tried not to think about that, and just keep moving and make sure to do his job right. He still had enemies who were still sour that they were not on the winning side, even if being on the winning side meant anything; they still lost friends and resources, both that neither could get back.

Through the developing business district, he passed a small shine shop, boutique is more the correct term for it. Clean and very bright, in the front oblong oval window it displayed frames with different decals and paint styles. One caught his attention, oddly enough it was a decal that went around his face, to frame it so to speak. _Looks nice_ , he thought, knowing that he wouldn’t get it. He wasn’t sure if it was his lack of vanity or his lack of wanting his few shanix filled paycheck to be wasted on something that wasn’t Energon or power for his appartment. He wouldn’t just yet. 

“Hey, Sweetybee. Admiring the product?” He didn’t need to look to be absolutely certain who was addressing him. “See anything you like?” The cherry red racer added, a smirk on his porcelain face. Bumblebee turned his head away, seeing how the mech hadn’t changed a bit since the end of the war. He certainly looked like he made good for himself. _Good for him_ , Bumblebee mused hopefully. “Hi, Knock Out, haven’t seen you for a good while.” The red racer shrugged. “I could say the same of you.”

“That gearhead keeping you busy?” _Gearhead?_ Bumblebee thought quickly but then laughed. “Ultra Magnus? Yeah, you could say that. Busy! Busy! Busy!” He smiled and looked back towards the window. “So, you started a business?” The cherry shrugged, looking back into the shop through the door. It looked odd to Bee but he digressed, there may be other customers inside and he wanted to make sure he didn’t keep them waiting–

–until he saw a little mech that barely came up to Knockout’s waist rushed out with what looked like a detailing brush in little servos. “Car! Car! Can I ‘ave flam’s?” the mechling squealed. The little mech did not look at Bumblebee, but if he had to guess who the sire was… his spark flared. Similar colors to Breakdown, however he did not know if Breakdown was ever so nice. He was once a Wrecker but he did turn tail and join the Decepticons. Maybe this little mech was the reason he did it. That was something that Bumblebee may never come to know, it wasn’t the kind of thing you ask someone you haven’t seen in many cycles. It wouldn’t be right to do so.

Knock Out knelt down to little dark blue and orange featured mechling, perhaps he was a little bigger than a mechling. A younging all the same. He plucked the offered detailing brush and inspected it, for what, Bumblebee did not know. “When I’m done talking to my _friend_ , I can give you some flames. Okay?” The cherry racer waited for the mechling to decide if what carrier was enough for him; it was. “Otay!” the little mech squealed in delight, clapping his little servos together. “Here, take this and put this back on the table. Go and think of a color you want.” Knock Out offered the brush back to his little mechling. A wide grin spread further across the orange face. “Otay, car! T’ank ‘ou!” He took the the brush and scurried off, back in the decal shop.

Bumblebee hadn’t noticed how doopy his smile was seeing the little mechling, still so innocent and untouched. “He's cute,” he said plainly still with a smile. Knock Out stood back up. “Just like his sire, and one of my only customers,” he sounded solemn, quiet. Now Bumblebee wanted to ask who his sire was but he saw the hurt in his features and field. It would not be right. “Wildbreak is just like him,” he added softly.

He felt a little awkward, seeing a once enemy stand before him and look forlorn, and yet try to maintain an air of dignity. “You seem to be doing well so far, even with reconstruction,” Bumblebee sounded hopeful. “I'm sure business will pick up more soon. More mecha are coming in every day.”

Knock Out snorted a laugh. “You of any mech being so optimistic… take after Optimus.” 

Even now, mecha assumed that Bumblebee’s heritage was closely related to the last Prime and the Autobot medic. Only did they know that was not the case. They were family and Bumblebee would always believe that, but not all families are born of a blood connection. Raf and Miko and Jack and Miss June taught him that. All of the Autobots had learned something from their time on Earth, some lessons harsher than others, but that family can be found anywhere was the one of the easiest. “Yeah, I do try to. Be Optimistic,” he sighed his reply. 

Then there was a shrill laugh and then a crash that came from inside the shop. On instinct, Bumblebee went in along with Knock Out. The sight was chaos, and he could feel Knock Out’s field flare with anguish at the bottles that littered the floor, some open and leaking bright colors. The cherry racer picked up the bitlit, holding him securely in the crook of his arm. “Were you climbing again?”

“I sowwy,” Wildbreak whimpered, looking wholly chastised. Little black fists were balled and close to his chassis, little yellow optics extra bright. 

Bumblebee saw that Knock Out was busy with his son, he reached down and lifted the shelf back up against the wall, replacing the bottles on the shelf as well. But stopped when Knock Out said, “No, no, you don't need to do that.” Bumblebee shrugged. “It's nothing really. I know what kind of trouble mechlings can get into.” No lie there. He'd encountered a few sparklings and mechlings and femmlings come through on the Jackhammer. They always had something that was Wheeljack’s in their little mouths. Apparently he had given them a few things from time to time. But Bumblebee would never get over the inert grenade that one little bright gold and red mechling had been chewing on with still forming dentae. Ultra Magnus was not pleased either, and grounded him for only an orn. He would have done it for longer but the necessity for him to retrieve survivors was paramount to the new Council’s plan of revival. 

“Don't, I'll do it. You have a job to do elsewhere, don't you.”

“My job is to help others and to protect them. This is no trouble in the slightest,” the yellow enforcer reasoned. But did stop putting bottles back on the shelf once the few that he had collected were gone from his arms. 

“Thank you but I can handle it,” Knock Out sounded confident, still holding the mechling. Wildbreak had started to fall into recharge being so close to his carrier's spark. 

Bumblebee smiled softly. “Okay, since you say so. You still have my personal link if need me.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Bumblebee nodded and took his leave, although hesitant. There was still an entire flourishing business district that he should scout through. He was on duty, of course and needed to make sure everything was going well. It was his duty to serve and protect. 

Along the silver plated buildings, he spotted at least two oil houses and already a bar. Damn, they would all at some time visit there.

Highgrade was never something that Bumblebee had fancied himself for. He didn't care for the burn in his intakes or how it badly rumbled in his tank when it was down. Even with that one time, and even though that was an accident, he avoided having anything stronger than midgrade. 

As he kept his leisurely pace, he noticed that some buildings had yet to have a tenant or anything that could resemble the pilgrimage of starting a business. He kept his sigh internal. Until everything had settled down, with the Galactic Council, with the _new_ Council, and with the returning refugees of the war, is was still early to say that everything was okay. It was going to be okay, but they'd all have to wait for it. 

But even with the small businesses, there was one that caught his attention. It was a little cafe. There were tables and umbrellas that looked like they covered a little farther than the seats, a good thing when it rained. Acid isn't fun to be in, and very not fun to have a medic put a nanite solution on the seared parts of armor that it touched. That's something that you only have to do once to remember for a lifetime. Bumblebee shuddered at the memory file that attempted to play. 

The cafe would explain the lovely aroma. Crystalled Energon Flakes are delicious, and very much different from the Energon crystals that he and Team Prime had harvested on Earth. These were sweetened to just so, not over powering but compact energy. One shouldn't have many, too much fuel in a system isn't known to be good on internals. Bumblebee wasn't sure what happened with the fuel but that did not matter, he didn't overindulge himself with fuel. He tried his hardest to indulge himself with a full night-cycle of good recharge; however, recharge even now avoided him when he needed it. Old war tendencies, they never went away easily. 

He walked on. “Bumblebee!” Until someone called his name, low and rumbling, falling into a falsetto as he yelled. It surprised him that someone knew his name around this area. Many of the mecha here were fresh from the Jackhammer and wherever else they came from. He turned on his heel, a servo resting instinctively on his Stunt Blaster, only as a precaution. He recognized the mech also immediately. “Hello Counselor Shockwave,” he greeted politely. News of who were counselors had be widely publicized, it was scarce that anymech did not already know. 

“Please, only Shockwave. I only have the position because I was elected to it by others,” Shockwave pointed out with a smile along the his white derma. Bumblebee strode over to him, hiding his hesitance. “Alright. Is there a problem?” He asked with the utmost calmness in his field. Shockwave shook his head slowly. “No problem, however I would like to talk to you.” There was something that clicked in Bumblebee’s neural net that told him his was a bad idea, but he ruled it out. It wasn't logical. 

“Please, sit if you would.” 

“I am on duty, Coun- Shockwave. I can't abandon my post.” Bumblebee caught on to the new title just on the tip of his glossa, before it completely escaped him.

“This is business. Ultra Magnus understands. Forgive me,” Shockwave paused a moment, “I wanted to discuss something important with you personally.” Shockwave waved him over to a seat, the only other seat by the table. Bumblebee, though still hesitant, took the seat. 

“What kind of business?” Bumblebee asked slowly, stopping himself before ogling at the smooth glass that covered Shockwave’s chassis. Well, attempted to stop before it became obvious to him. Shockwave was… handsome to say the least. And alluring. It was not something Bumblebee was sure he liked. Of course he liked how Shockwave looked, no lies there. However, it just felt wrong for him to feel… comfortable around a mech that had killed many Autobots. Who was he kidding, he was just as dangerous, taking down hundreds of thousands of Vehicons and Eradicons during the war. He wasn’t sure exactly what to feel at the moment either.

“Politics,” Shockwave bluntly put it, the soft air in his field turned serious. “There has been a situation inside the Council, and we need a stand in,” he further supplied. Bumblebee was honestly confused by the proposition. “And I…?” Bumblebee wasn't sure where to go from there. 

“You were on the short list of mecha to take the open seat. I thought it would be best that I inform you personally.” His smile was barely there, optics light, crisp blue. It reminded Bumblebee of the clear waters that he had rarely encountered back on Earth. Somewhere close to… Flo-rida, or something like that. 

Bumblebee shook his head. “Why me? I mean, I'm honored but, I wouldn't know where to begin.” Shockwave nodded while waving an arm. “I didn't either when I was first a Councilor, Senator back then.” He paused watching how Bumblebee was taking this information in. “You have a good head on your shoulders. I think you'd be just fine, perhaps even better.” Bumblebee wasn’t sure how to respond to the complement. It made his armor flare momentarily, heightening the heat that was already rising in his chassis. He opened his mouth to only a slip, nothing but a brief bout of static popped through, not loud enough for Shockwave to hear. Or so he hoped. 

Shockwave did indeed notice, however, for the sake of the situation, remained silent on the matter. “You do not need to decide now, and I advise you don’t. Relax.” A minibot with an orange chassis came out next to the table, arm prepped with a gold dish and what looked to be little Energon treats of different assortments. “Here you are Councilor,” he said, dipping his head and placing the tray on the table. “Thank you.” The minibot was about to take his leave when Shockwave spoke again, “and this is for you.” A white servo held what looked like old, very old, shanix. And quite a few, more than what Bumblebee gets in even a Deca-cycle. Bumblebee felt a little jealous now, mixed with the fact that his vocaliser had turned static when he attempted to speak mere moments ago. But the minibot was not jealous, silently jovial in the influx of credit. It was almost as if he had anticipated that he would be stiffed from the Councilor, and left while he still had it in his grasp. 

Bumblebee cleared his intake, swallowing any static that may attempt to linger, and asked “Only a stand in?” He watched the light optics of the Councilor, how they reacted to what he was saying. “I'm sure there are other mecha that are better suited to hold a title in the Council.” Shockwave hummed, taking a little silver and blue treat from the golden tray. “Perhaps more experienced, yes, however, new Energon is a healthy thing to have in a political arena.” Shockwave squished and took a bit of the treat and chewed. “It helps stave off revolution.”

“Primus knows we don't need another one. Not so soon.” Bumblebee, to hide his surprise, plucked up something that was a yellow cylinder wrapped with something orange. With a small bite, he found it tart but sweet. If Bumblebee ever came across more shanix, this is something he'd treat himself to. 

Shockwave placed the rest of the treat he had through his white lips, and hummed softly at the taste. “Agreed. That is why I wished to implore you to consider it,” Shockwave added with a smile on his derma, soft and sure, “You wouldn't be alone in there.” Shockwave took a moment to watch Bumblebee, to see how subtly his intakes hitched and how quickly he recomposed himself. “I assume you would be there.” 

“So long as my appointment lasts, yes. Or until I am voted out of my seat,” he chuckled slightly. They both sat there a moment, watching each other in an also awkward staring contest. Bumblebee felt his wings perk up at the thought of Shockwave being there. With him. _Slag it, Bumblebee! Stop thinking like that! It’ll only get you in trouble,_ he chided himself. And cursed when his plating ruffled. There was absolutely no way that Shockwave had not noticed it, even if it were the slightest of tinks. 

Shockwave took another treat, though the one of choice this time was a little square with a layered red circle in the middle that shaped itself almost into a triangle. A cone, Bumblebee corrected. 

“Is there anyone you miss?” Shockwave asked suddenly. “From the war, or uh, before it?” He added quickly. Now he was chiding himself. It’s still not the usual normal still for two former faction members talk about the past, if it were even something that could be spoken about civilly amongst each other. He scolded himself for it, but he kept that out of his field the best he could. 

“Yeah. I mean, of course. I lost friends, some I considered family even.” Bumblebee tapped idly on the table. “I wasn’t even alive during the beginning.” Yellow wings shifted minutely, Bumblebee’s ruffled plating fell down against his protoform, an almost silent way to convey that he was getting comfortable, although, not easily. _War’s over, can’t let old hostilities take over common sense_ , Bee mused, attemptedly hopeful. “I’m sure you have as well.”

“I have, yes,” it was a much quieter a reply than Bumblebee would have anticipated from the Councilor. “I have still yet to know what happened to Soundwave. Even within documentation of that final battle say nothing.” 

Bumblebee knew what happened to Soundwave. It was part of the major plan, something that Miko carried out. He swallowed heavily. Even with it being the past, that it was war, part of him almost felt sympathy. “The cameras were the first thing I checked. The feed was fried beyond repair,” Shockwave added with a shrug. 

“I don't know,” he lied. “He must have meant a lot to you,” he said slowly, servo resting on the table. Shockwave closed his optics tight and turned his head away. “We were but two soldiers of the same cause. Unfortunately, it was not the same by the end. A goal that was the soul core of the cause had been lost,” Shockwave groused. He seemed to avoid the name of his former faction, and for good reason. Former Decepticons were seen as taboo, but it couldn’t be helped. Bumblebee knew that and Shockwave certainly knew it, being in the public’s eye, he had to be subtle otherwise there would be backlash. He could handle it however, less political drama, the better. “Although, I am glad that the entire endeavor is over. Autobot win or not, things are getting better. Slowly.” He opened his optics, their azure stared at the yellow enforcer with a quiet kind of admiration, something that Bumblebee was not used to.

“I… am a little surprised to hear you say that.” Bumblebee could still feel those optics on his plating, though it did not make his protoform crawl like he thought it should. “Frankly, I wasn't so sure you'd be okay with what's going on, and how everything is taking shape.” He shrugged. “I guess I thought you would be salty,” he added with a soft smile.

Shockwave looked at him funny, like what he said had made zero sense to him. “Salty,” he repeated quietly, not quite asking what it meant. 

Bumblebee caught on to Shockwave’s curiosity. “It’s a human thing,” he explained sheepishly. He knew he had spent a large deal of time on Earth around humans (even though of those it was less than ten that he had come to know well), and during that time had come to follow the lingo of ‘memes’ as Miko explained. Or something like that. 

“Did you rather like being around the humans?” White triangular finials perked up in questioning, something that reminded Bumblebee vaguely of his old grey ones, how they’d shift and be the only other way to show what was happening within the mech. “Yeah. I mean, there were some that were complete jerks but, I guess there are gonna be people like that everywhere,” Bumblebee answered, now tapping at his knee, much less obvious than a minute ago. “You’d be right.” 

Then there was the thing that was not appriciated whatsoever: awkward silence. Bee did not know what to say to keep the conversation moving. Shockwave wasn’t so bothered by it, but he could see it within the yellow frame. He did the only thing he could do that may not cause any unrest between them, parting and reaching out his field, just barely enough to mingle with Bumblebee, it was only enough to say he was relaxed and this was good. 

“I’ve gotta ask you something.” Bumblebee stopped tapping, and the silence returned. “How come you’re no longer an Empurata victim?” Upon hearing himself he added hastily “that to say that in a bad way, or that you look bad, you great actually, but…” his own voice stumbled over itself. That was embaressing beyond belief and his doors were proof as they jerked down faster than he could stop them. 

Shockwave’s field did not change however he did withdraw. “It was seen as best to have my mental fasilities restored. Apparently, they wanted to give me a second chance at being… normal.”

 

Bumblebee sat there again, not sure what to say. “No exactly what you had in mind, did you?” Shockwave asked with the slightest edge of a smirk. Bumblebee shook his head with an attempted smile. “I don’t know what I had in mind, really.”

“Curiosity is a good thing. I think that’s what I like about you.” _Another compliment?_ , Bumblebee mused. _Maybe I’m reading too much into this._

There was gentle buzz that crawled over what Bumblebee guessed was Shockwave’s Comm. “Forgive me,” he said as he answered. 

Bumblebee didn’t listen to what he was saying. It didn’t pertain to him and it would be rude to listen. So whilst he waited, he took another one of those treats from the golden tray. It tasted odd, but he should have anticipated that with Neon.

“Forgive me but I must take my leave. Wheeljack requires me,” he explained with the most regretful look. Bumblebee tilted his head in such a way that it reminded Shockwave of youngling, and in a way, he still was one technically. 

“Is everything alright?” Bumblebee watched as Shockwave lifted his frame with practiced ease, easily avoided bumping into the table, and he got up as well. 

“Everything is as it should be. He merely asked me to help him with something,” he explained. “It’s something for Bulkhead.” Bumblebee nodded, a crooked smile lined his derma. It was still fresh news to know one of his friends was carrying. It made it all the more real that the war was over. And that they were safe to grow. 

“A surprise?” Bumblebee relaxed his frame. Then he realised how tall the Councilor was, easily two heads taller than himself. 

A chuckle escaped him as he rounded the table, closer to Bumblebee. “Perhaps. Whatever you do, do not tell Bulkhead.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Shockwave’s Comm. bleeped again, this time he ignored it in favor of finishing what he had come there to do. “Now, Bumblebee, do not forget the Council’s proposal. If you would let me know your decision as soon as possible, if you please.” He waited again, watching how the yellow wings lifted just a notch. The enforcer nodded. “Would it be better if I gave my Comm.?” Shockwave inquired, his palm up and open, as if he were offering something. 

“That would make it easier.”

“Alright, the code for it is 29756234591217.” For a cluster of numbers, that one was one of the shorter ones that Bumblebee had encountered. Some had link codes going into the 30s, at fourteen, this one was short by comparison. 

/send CCM to {29756234591217} (It’s Bumblebee.)

Bumblebee knew the moment that Shockwave got it, his vents did a satisfied huff. “It seems that is all taken care of. It was wonderful speaking to you again.”

“It was,” Bumblebee agreed, looking directly into the cyan optics, seeing gold go around them. He allowed himself to smile a little bigger than before. “I guess we will talk later.”

“I do hope so. Good orn to you, Bumblebee.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try something new... How is it so far?


End file.
